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Letting Go

8/12/2014

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9:42 a.m. on a Sunday morning. It’s cool before the sun dials it up, bound for the 90s.  Last night I sat out with my guitar, playing to the gnomes, the blackberry wine-scented brambles and a pair of dragonflies who appeared to fancy my rendition of Bobby McGee: twilight of my last Smidgeon Saturday. It has been a good run.

Approaching Stacey’s return (August 18th, to be exact), I spent the better part of July hunched over craigslist housing ads, pondering my ideal scenario, short of landing another tiny lease. House or apartment? Roommates or solo? Location/neighborhood? Price range? In the midst of it, I managed to break away to the July tiny house mixer hosted by Portland Alternative Dwellings at Salvage Works in North PDX, where the reclaimed and reincorporated blur rubbish/treasure boundaries with surprising style--case in point: baby doll head planters. And if re-purposed baby dolls aren’t your thing, they also have nearly impossible to find reclaimed building materials, farm implements, crates, license plates, parts and pieces of history ready to lend your building/decorating project character and depth. They’ve done a fantastic job of designing the space for ample inspiration—a definite must see! Now, on to the big event!

Inside and outside this candy store for the creative builder, the monthly Tiny House Mixer was in full swing. Dee Williams performed for the crowd a two-minute housecleaning of Jolene, her touring vardo, before introducing a string of tiny movers and shakers. There were City-backed small affordable housers, sustainable community seeders, tiny reality show hopefuls, building bloggers breaking from their labors to share experience. The whole event is one part happy hour and several parts grassroots, community, networking, Q&A, self-empowerment, paradigm-shifting par-TAY. Everyone’s invited. If you’re especially lucky, you might go home with a door prize, i.e. Dee’s The Big Tiny or a giant bag of composting sawdust--score!! Unfortunately, I have not mastered the art of snapping pics while simultaneously jotting names/notes for later report. The good news is, there are monthly practice opportunities. With any luck, my August 21st mixer report should contain more substance.
Meanwhile back on the home front, I gave the craigslist magic 8-ball one more shake. Up popped the 1936 Tudor with prolific cucumber and kale garden, sunflowers in the forecast, a fire pit and a large walnut tree prone to pegging unsuspecting backyard loungers with nuts. The house is currently inhabited by Jennifer (owner), Matthew (housemate) and 8-yr-old, part-time resident, Eva (Matthew’s daughter). I’ll have my own bedroom, separate art room (sweet!) and largely private bath, and there’s a clause in the lease for possible home improvement teamwork. Like so many things on this journey, it differs from what I had envisioned, and is exactly, perfectly what I need. What more could I possibly want, besides one last little thing....?
The same week I found my housemates, I stumbled across a brand new, nearly finished tiny parked in a driveway along my pedi-commute to the office. Like the tiny connections around nearly every Portland corner, I was giddy at the discovery. I wasn't, however, expecting the watery-eyed pang of homesickness for my own wee house, still for sale on Whidbey...  It makes sense, I suppose, teetering on the cusp of a big-house up-sizing... Of the seven years with my house, I spent more time building (five, at least) than I did in actual residence. Building, too, was a kind of inhabiting—getting into the guts, holding every piece of her in my hands, hardly noticing that what was being built was bigger than both of us. I am thrilled to be in Portland, at the Tiny epi-center. There is a palpable sense here that the frayed legal bonds on the movement are about to snap. It was the little house that  brought me to this place. Ironically (or perfectly), it has become the thing I most need to let go. I’m ready. I have only one final wish: a buyer/new owner who will love her. That is all. May it be so. 
Meanwhile, I'm exploring new PDX possibilities in and around my temp tiny digs. Finally made it out to Tango Berretίn--a fabulous venue full of potential new 'family.' I've become fond of the friendly crew at my mid-commute ritual, Rain or Shine Coffee. Back in Stacey’s excellently appointed kitchen, I improvise a batch of cucumber blackberry basil relish (check my Vittles page for the recipe) with cukes gifted by my new housemate and berries from just off Smidgeon's stoop. I scoop a generous dollop with my favorite Raincoast Crisps cracker and attempt to squint into the future. It glitters amorphously in the distance... Tomorrow’s my weekly check-in with realtor/friend, Daniel Goldsmith. His last report: the little house continues to garner attention… a call about every other day. Daniel remains optimistic. I tally the miracles of the last two months and the artful comforts of my temporary tiny sanctum. Yeah, I think to myself, me too.
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Pinch Me

6/29/2014

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5:30 a.m. Sunday morning.  “Awake yet?” a crow rasps from the pear tree on the perimeter of sleep.  A sprinkle of co-conspiratorial twitters tumble through the loft window.  One eye opens, then the other.  I check my bearings…  check again...  Looks like I finally made it to Portland...  Yes, it's true!  I'm in the loft of Stacey Whitcomb's tiny house, Smidgeon, into which I moved Monday after work.  Work: another surreality.  I landed a job before I arrived!  But i digress!  Admittedly, blog posts have lapsed so as to fall short of even ‘sporadic.'  Let's get up to speed.  First a brief recap:

You may recall last summer’s decision to move to Portland strapped to the financial contingency of selling The Mighty.  Here’s a synopsis of events in (initially slow) motion:
  • WOH! Baby!
  • Continued client attrition
  • Angst
  • Artistic explorations
  • Mid-December quick-trip for a TinyHomes.com meeting with Kenny Bavoso and Lina Menard
  • New business strategies and artistic output
  • Angst
  • Opened Etsy Shop and DIY Coaching business; waited for calls/orders
  • More angst
  • Nagging intuition that it was time to move my house again, though not to Portland
In all honesty, it was a long, dark winter of the soul, which I was, thankfully, unable to write about in real time, all the while relentlessly pursued by the statement/question posed by every Whidbey-ite I encountered in my daily travels to the supermarket, bank, dump, hardware store, etc.  "I thought you were moving to Portland(?)" they would innocently posit. AAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrgh!!!!  I am happy to report that no well-meaning and unsuspecting souls were injured in the course of my internal struggle.  

Angst aside, Spring eventually tip-toed in the back door, trailing a smattering of work (gardening, coaching calls and catering).  Amid the undercurrent of new activity, I loosened my choke-hold on the Portland dream, entertaining a re-investment in Island life.  However, given that the garden to which I had moved, was clearly done, I embarked on a new farm search where I might live in my tiny house and share in the labor.  At the beginning of April, I put out feelers and by mid-month, had an offer.

Enter Daniel Goldsmith, a tango friend, realtor and new owner of The Freeland Farm.  The property in question, a long-time, family-held farmstead and woodland, had suffered bisection by the highway and languished in a serious state of neglect and decline.  I gotta be honest: it was not the farm I had envisioned, but it was unmistakably the right people.  The Big Deal: wee house and I would move to The Farm with a contract until October.  In my spare time, I would join the labor force re-loving the property for resale.  I also hired Daniel as my agent for a new tiny marketing strategy.  Great!  Now, maybe I could settle in and get to work, renew my connection with the southerly wing of my tiny network...  Part of that was right.

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From that point on, time continued to accelerate. Hang onto your hats folks!  Here are the events as they occurred:

May
  • Large, marginally legal object towed by the police station, through the heart of Freeland and across the highway to The Farm, where I took up residence behind the red barn
  • Attended Lina Menard’s Memorial Day Weekend tiny work party in Portland, OR
  • Lina called about a job opening, I applied, interviewed, and was hired as Office Manager for The Breathe Building Living Building Challenge Project (All in 3 days! Only 2 weeks to move!!)
  • Housewarming/farewell BBQ, client closures, packing

June
  • barn sale
  • moved house to highway-visible spot
  • packing, cleaning, farewells, packing, cleaning, farewells...
  • final car load-up, pics of empty house, tears
  • Island departure and arrival at Kenny Bavoso’s temporary crash-pad in Washougal, WA
  • June 16th started new job at The Breathe Building
  • Lina Menard’s tiny roof work party
  • Subleased and moved into Stacey Whitcomb’s tiny, Smidgeon in Portland.
  • June 25th first full night’s sleep in over a month
  • PAD’s tiny house mixer with Dee Williams, Joan Grimm, Derin Williams, Kol Peterson, Lina Menard, Laura Klement, Ben Campbell, Kelly Nardo and Jeremy Beasely, and so many others…

Energy is a funny thing.  You can beat yourself bloody trying to move it.  Let go and it takes off.  Life changes over night, or in the weeks, months, years you’re looking the other way.  The MightyMicroHouse is still for sale up on Whidbey.  Daniel has been showing it and is confident it will go.  I don’t yet know what this means for my blog.  No doubt living in Stacey’s Smidgeon, immersion in the tiny scene and next year’s Tiny House Conference in Portland—to name a few—will provide rich material.  I’m taking it all in.  Stay tuned.


Extra special thanks to those who played big roles in making my tiny transition possible:  Dori Hallberg and Chris Hallberg for heroic shelter and sustenance; Anna Wolcott, Beck Paffrath, Joan Gerding, Sara Fidler, Dawn Isaacs, Alyssa VanBlaricom and Brad Rice for unfailing encouragement and support; Mom and Dad Ramseyer for believing in me; Daniel Goldsmith for inviting me to the farm and for his marketing savvy; Barb and Jeff Ewing, Deborah and Rob Smith, JoAnn and Art Peterson, Teri Jo Summer and Dale Reiger, Maryel Duzan, Marni Zimmerman and Robbie Cribbs for your patronage, inspiration encouragement and friendship; Lina Menard and Raffi, Kenny Bavoso, Stacey Whitcomb, Mike Vogt and The Breathe Building for providing me with the opportunity and infrastructure to make a new home in Portland.
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    Angela Ramseyer is an artist, poet, writer, tanguera and  neophyte guitar player, recently relocated from Whidbey Island, WA to Portland, OR.

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